


Camp Aliceville

by Rudolf Loewe (Rudolflioness)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alabama, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Possible historical inaccuracy, World War II, aliceville, historical fiction - Freeform, minor m/m relationship, usuk just kinda drifting off in the background over here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudolflioness/pseuds/Rudolf%20Loewe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the lives of the German P.O.W.s in one of the largest camps on United States soil, Camp Aliceville, Alabama. Follow the life of Ludwig Bielschmidt, a captured officer of the Afrikakorps, and Alfred F. Jones, the kind (but annoyingly talkative) guard, as they face a secrets and violence within. The following fic is based on a true place, a true event, and a real period in time. Be aware, however, that not all of this is completely accurate, happenings may not have actually occurred, and for no reason should you assume that all of the following fic is truth. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction: To Whom It May Concern

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written first nearly two years ago by myself on FanFiction.net. It found its way to a whole 6 chapters before I stopped writing, frustrated with the fic. I loved the concept, the characters, the history of the setting and events, but I just. HATED. The fic itself. And I just really hated the way FanFiction.net was run (I joined AO3 shortly after one of my best and most successful fics, Still Alive, a FMA/Amnesia:TDD crossover, was deleted in a purge of the site for a reason I deemed unfair). So I have decided to rewrite my beloved Camp Aliceville and make everything the way I truly want it to be. And this is the beginning of it.
> 
> If you want to view the OLD Camp Aliceville, you can still read it here http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6864044/1/Camp-Aliceville . Hopefully it will stand testament to how much I have improved. It may also give you insight on possible happenings in this rewriting, if you like that sort of thing. (I know for a fact I will not be typing out accents all the time again so you can stop holding your breath now)

The door sounded like it was about to crack when it was slammed open in the furious grand entrance of a well-decorated military man. Arthur Kirkland looked up from his desk with only one opened, narrowed eye, and watched as the man approached his desk. Arthur stood and returned a quick salute before sitting back down. "Was it necessary to break down my door?" he asked, lazily returning to looking through a set of papers.

"Apologies. I was told to deliver this to you; it's a letter we found at the site of a German base in Africa," he said, thrusting forth a folded, yellowed piece of paper.

"And this is my concern how?" Arthur asked, looking up with one raised eyebrow.

"I've been told by my authorities that it is something you need to see. Apparently important, I wasn't told why."

"Authorities-?"

"Churchill, sir."

"Churchill! Give that here," Arthur said, suddenly snapping to full attention as he launched from his chair and grabbed the paper from across the desk. "Why on Earth would Churchill want me to-" His eyes darted through the letter ("For a German, his English isn't bad...") and settled upon the signature. He fell quiet, his face pale. "... Oh."

"Sir?" the officer said cautiously. "What is i-"

"Where is the German squad now?" Arthur asked suddenly, eyes darted to the man and burning into him with certain urgency. He seemed on the verge of panic. "Where are they right now?"

"Captured by an American-led group. Should be on the way to a prisoner camp by now, I think."

"What camp?"

"Most likely Aliceville, sir." The officer shrugged. "That's where they've been taking groups of the Afrikakorps lately."

Arthur slammed the paper down on his desk and began to pace frantically, furiously waving his hand about. "Get on the phone with the Americans right now. Find out who's in charge of that camp, and I want a listing of every damn prisoner in its walls in my hands as soon as they hang up. Someone get me on the phone with Roosevelt- No. No, not Roosevelt. Someone get me on the phone with Alfred."

* * *

 

_To whomever finds this letter:_

_Over the span of this war, I've realized a few things. I've made mistakes. Everyone has._

_This war is pointless. We conquer, we kill, we completely DEVESTATE populations. And I'm still not sure why. At first I thought it was for the glory of Duetschland. Such a broken group of people, how easily we believed this was the right idea. Then I thought it was loyalty, as long as I did what I was told I was in the right. But now I know there's nothing ever that will make this right._

_I tried to argue, I did. Perhaps I should have been more persistent._

_Not sure when I realized all of this. Maybe it was when France fell. Seeing a nation in their desperate hour like that can do things to you. Maybe it was even as far back as Poland._

_I wanted to be strong. I wanted respect. This is not how you become strong, this is not how you earn respect. How could I have let this happen? Surely I have more power than that._

_Truth is, I don't. And if I somehow do, I renounce it here and now. I'm not worthy of it anymore._

_I've made mistakes. And I suppose the consequences are not too far away, now, with the American's approach. They've really gotten better at fighting here._ _I beg forgiveness, but I do not expect it. At this point, all I wish is to forget and move on, assuming I ever get that chance. If anyone ever gets that chance._

_-Ludwig Bielschmidt_

_PS: Someone tell my brother he was right._


	2. The Soldiers by the Tracks/Edible Propaganda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, the story truly begins. As a reminder:
> 
> Based on the lives of the German P.O.W.s in one of the largest camps on United States soil, Camp Aliceville, Alabama. Follow the life of Ludwig Bielschmidt, a captured officer of the Afrikakorps, and Alfred F. Jones, the kind (but annoyingly talkative) guard, as they face a secrets and violence within. The following fic is based on a true place, a true event, and a real period in time. Be aware, however, that not all of this is completely accurate, happenings may not have actually occurred, and for no reason should you assume that all of the following fic is truth. Enjoy.

Words began to pass around the ship, hushed tones growing more excited as it became known where they were. No, not excited. This was something else entirely. People were shifting, and some rushed to the few round windows in the hull of the boat, eager to glimpse outside and fighting over rights to do so. " _Is it true? Is it true?_ " many asked, and the blond German lifted his head to observe the commotion. His eyes, once a brilliant blue, were dull now, and his exhaustion showed heavily. It did for the others, too. " _Ludwig, move over, let me see,_ " one man said, rushing over to the window the blond sat in front of. Ludwig turned his head over his shoulder to gaze out was well.

New York Harbor. The buildings stood proud and strong, and they were welcomed by the sight of a brilliant statue. Lady Liberty, Ludwig believed it was called. It looked perfect, just as the day it had been given to America by the French. Well, if not a little rusted, anyway.

The tone of the ship suddenly grew confused. " _Wait, it looks just fine,_ " one said, and another replied with, " _I know! Isn't it supposed to be- supposed to be..._ "

" _Completely destroyed?_ " Ludwig offered the stammering men, turning around to face the rest of his shipmates, his eyes half lidded with apparent indifference.

" _It's a trick, right?_ " the man standing by Ludwig asked, still looking out the window. His eyes were wide as if with horror. " _It's an elaborate cover-up, right? This place is supposed to be leveled to the ground! They said the bombs-_ "

" _The only trick lies with what we were told,_ " Ludwig sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the hull. " _This is no trick, soldier; there were no bombs. We never bombed New York._ "

The man let the words sink in as he slowly turned from the window and fell back into his seat. The morale of others quickly declined as well, even more so than it had already fallen. Exhaustion turned to disappointment, which turned into silent distress. Ludwig, unfazed by any of this, only rolled his eyes. He could not believe these men. How could they so blindly have accepted... Nevermind. He knew exactly how and why. He turned once more to look out the window as the ship docked.

So here it was, America. They were finally here. Here was where they would be starved, and if they were lucky, they might just die here. Pure torture was the only other option. They were taken and loaded onto a train. Ludwig stood in the center of the car, looking around at his men. Finally, a guard forced him to sit. Ludwig sighed, and leaned his head against the window, watching the curious onlookers shuffle about. The Americans called them Nazi Supermen, but Ludwig knew better. All of the Afrikakorps, including himself, were beaten and worn. Some were young, some older, but all these once-great soldiers now only longed for rest and a good meal. The train lurched forward noisily and the wheels began to turn. They wouldn't get either of those here, unfortunately. He closed his eyes and grumbled as city turned to country, " _Someone wake me when we've stopped._ "

 

* * *

 

Alfred F. Jones laughed a little to himself as women made beelines for the train tracks, many searching for good places to sit on the lumber piles as the train rolled in. All of them wanted a good, long, hard look at the Germans that would soon occupy the new prisoner-of-war camp built near town. It was almost hilarious how badly some of them wanted to see the first shipment of their new "fenced in guests", but seeing as this was only a small country town with not much going on, it was completely understandable. This was Aliceville, after all. In a small town like this, everyone had to know someone somehow. Much excitement had built up for this day, and finally, the townsfolk would see just what they had been waiting for. A few men joked about spitting on the "Nazi bastards", but otherwise, it was nothing more than curiosity.

Alfred, however, was far from interested in the P.O.W.s. He _had_ to be there, so he was going to see the Germans regardless if he had a good seat. His boss technically forbade him from getting too close to the Germans, but all it took was a few days of persuasion. Maybe a little bit of begging, getting in with the right people, and a handful of luck, too, but either way, the end result was being assigned to Aliceville, and getting close to the Germans here was unavoidable. He was sure the boss hated him so much right now, but hell, Alfred was going to get involved in this war one way or another, and if he couldn't fight, he damn well was going to look after the ones that did.

A whistle sounded in the distance as the train made its approach. It was close. Alfred straightened his back and joined a group of other officers and guards on their trek to the train station. On the way, the dirty blond flashed a cheeky smile at a group of young ladies, who giggled and playfully clutched and shoved each other in response. Alfred, in turn, received a quick slap to back. It was forceful, but not painful. He turned to look at the officer beside him, who said to him, "Stop goofing off for just once, Jones. We've got to get these men off the train, into the camp, and have them processed without any trouble. And I'd like to have that done before sunset."

"Yes sir, sorry, sir," Alfred said, straightening himself up once more. When the officer looked away, Alfred smiled again and rolled his eyes. The women saw and giggled again. He enjoyed being the center of attention, and in all honesty, getting in just a little trouble didn't matter much to him.

The train rolled to a stop just as the group came to the station. Guards had to keep the crowd back as they were unloaded at first, but soon things died down as it became apparent just what they were seeing here. These weren't the Nazi Supermen they were promised, or at least, not entirely. Was this not the Afrikakorps, one of the the most elite groups of the German army? All of these men were broken, dirty, and dog-tired, not anything like the strong, angry warriors the town had expected. Excited talk dulled down to a faint murmur. Alfred walked alongside the prisoners as they were led by foot to the camp. So was this what they'd become? It didn't seem right. Maybe a train had gotten mixed up somewhere. Most of the Germans stayed silent and refused to look at anything other than their feet or the road before them, but he could hear some quiet whispers. Of course, it was all in German, and Alfred almost regretted not learning a second language.

As they processed the Germans coming in to the camp, checking paperwork and administering medical care where it was needed, Alfred just stood at the entrance, mumbling meaningless words of welcome. This was a camp for war prisoners, Germans specifically. It wasn't meant to be fun and game, just a place to hold them all humanely until the war was over and they could be sent home. "Hey, welcome to Aliceville," he grumbled to the brunette. God, this was boring. "Yeah, welcome to camp," he sighed in greeting to the short black-haired one. Why did he take his job? Oh, yeah, because he wanted it. Irony. He lowered his gaze to the ground. "Welcome to Camp Aliceville," he announced with indignation to the tall blond one. Couldn't this go any faster?-- 

"Thank you," was the sarcastic reply Alfred received. He stumbled back a little, completely caught off guard. Wait, had this German actually spoken back to him? He quickly looked back up to find the one who replied, but it seemed like he had already gone through. "That... That was weird," he mumbled to himself. Another guard must have heard, because he looked over at him. "I didn't know any of these Nazi bastards even understood English."

As the line began to die down, Alfred followed a few guards to the mess halls. The Germans had been released in here and given food after they'd been processed, and the hall was nearly filled. It was still eerily quiet, and shockingly enough, a lot of the men weren't even eating. They just sat there, staring at their food. It was a small meal by Alfred's standards, just a few vegetables, some bread, a chunk of pork. Salt and pepper was on the table, each had a glass of water. "You think they forgot how to eat?" Alfred joked to the guard next to him as they walked down between the tables, observing the scene. He was stopped by a sudden tap on the back of his arm. "Excuse me."

Alfred stopped and turned his head around. Not finding anyone immediately behind him, he looked to his sides before laying his eyes behind a tall blond man with his hand slightly raised. He lifted an eyebrow quizzically, and then he smiled, grabbing his fellow guard mid-tracks. "Hey, hey, this is the one I was talking about. This one speaks English," he said, pointing at the blond, and then turned back to the P.O.W. "Watcha want?" he asked.

"Vaht-" The German picked up a jar  from the table and held it up, "- is tis?"

Alfred stood still for a moment. He then broke out laughing, taking the jar and opening it. He borrowed a knife from the table and dipped it into the brown contents. "This is peanut butter! You put it on stuff like bread and eat it," he said, demonstrating by tearing off a small chunk of the man's bread and wiping the knife off on it. He then place both back down in front of the German. "What, never seen it before? Don't have it back home yet?" he asked as the German cautiously nibbled at the bread. Apparently he approved, because he promptly began to pass around the jar and saying something in German to each of his nearby comrades. Word spread around really fast, and soon enough, many of them were trying the peanut butter. One short guy was even dipping his spoon in it and eating it straight from the jar. The blond turned back to Alfred and shook his head. "Nein," he said simply.

That much Alfred could understand. "Well, looks like your buddies like it- Hey, whats your name?" he asked.

There was a delay as the German processed his English. "Ludwig," he answered.

"Nice to meet ya', Lood-veg," Alfred said with a smile. Okay, maybe it'd take a while to learn how to pronounce that smoothly. "I'm Alfred, Alfred F. Jo-"

"Jones! Smith! Stop harassing the prisoners!" a commanding officer shouted from across the room.

Alfred turned to wave and smile at the officer and nudged his friend to go on ahead of him. He sighed and said, "Eh, I probably shouldn't be talking to Nazis anyway. See ya around, Looddy." 

He turned to walk away, and Ludwig growled under his breath, "Ich bin Nazi nicht..." With a slight huff, he continued his meal slowly, wondering why it was even sitting in front of him. It was so normal. Well, as normal as non-German food was to him. This was a prisoner camp, not a fine-dining facility, weren't they supposed to receive pig slop, if even anything at all? He nearly choked on his food as one of his comrades to his left suddenly hissed at him, " _What do you think you're doing? What do any of you think you're doing?! This has to be some sort of.... Some sort of edible propaganda! To soften us up! You can't stand for this! I certainly wont!"_   The man, a rather large dark-haired soldier with a bruised eye, pushed his plate away. Everyone else promptly stopped eating, and began whispering. Was that it? Was that what they were doing? " _I don't know. It seems that way, but they won't break us so easily,_ " the man to Ludwig's right, a stringy-looking dark blond, said.

Ludwig grumbled and pushed the plate forcefully back in front of the dark-haired man, hitting him in the gut with it. " _Just eat your damned meal,_ " Ludwig said, frustrated. " _You know what they say -- American camps mean starvation. This could be your last meal. Cherish it._ "

He stayed silent then on, finishing his meal quickly and without another sound. Most of those that witnessed the scene did as he said and finished their own portions as well, apparently out of either trust, respect, or obedience. Once the P.O.W.s had cleared every speck of meat, bread, vegetables, and peanut butter from their plates and emptied every salt shaker, they were rounded up once more and led to their barracks. These, two, were surprisingly nice. Not great, and a bit small, but nicer than they could have been. They were new. After he was sure the rest of his comrades assigned to this barrack has already entered, he stepped into the building last. He caught glimpse of someone waving to him in the corner of his eye and glanced over quickly. Alfred. The German rolled his eyes and grumbled in disdain as he closed the door loudly behind him, ignoring the rather annoying guard in preference of a half-way decent sleep in one of the fifty shitty beds within the barrack.

This was going to be a long couple of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got, like, 4 kudos on chapter one, so I think it's clear that some people want an update. It's been a while, anyway. I've just had this chapter sitting on my computer for eons it seems, gathering dust because I can never quite be satisfied (especially after that first chapter! The letter, the tension... I dunno if I can top that!) But here it is, anyway.
> 
> I wanted to name this chapter simply "The Soldiers by the Tracks", but since this chapter is supposed to coincide with the original first chapter of the original Camp Aliceville (link provided in the previous chapter) I decided it would be best to also name it the original chapter name, Edible Propaganda, so you get a split title here. Hopefully I won't do that again, it's slightly annoying, if not for the fact it makes a little sense considering the events shown here. Not much new here, except better writing, (hopefully) better pacing, and generally longer chapters.


End file.
